


The Many Portraits of Gilbert Blythe

by ren_sauce



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drawing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and let's pretend cole decided to think over josephine's offer before going, cole: just because i'm gay doesn't mean i like him, gilbert: just because i like him doesn't mean i'm gay, it's not gay to sketch your homies if you're trying to improve your drawing skills right, pre-season 3, set after the season 2 finale but before season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ren_sauce/pseuds/ren_sauce
Summary: Cole begs his muse for inspiration. He's sent Gilbert Blythe.





	The Many Portraits of Gilbert Blythe

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i should finish all my outstanding wips. or maybe i should focus all my energy on some rarepair who actually barely interact in the show because 'but what if they DID interact...?'

Cole glared at the paper in his hand as he carefully flicked his wrist to mimic the motions of Diana’s hair. Pinpricks of pain shot up his forearm with each stroke, his wrist wobbling every so often and making the line wiggly and jut outwards in ugly bumps. His fist clenched around the pencil as he forced himself to control the pencil’s movements, his strokes becoming sharp and violent. He pressed the pencil harder into the paper as he attempted the smaller details of Diana’s face; he was just doing the crescent-shaped dimples on her cheeks (slowly, carefully, _ carefully-) _when the lead snapped beneath his fingers, the pencil colliding into the paper and leaving an ugly smear over Diana’s face.

_ “Dammit!” _He cried, throwing his notepad on the floor. Anne and Diana both made concerned sounds as they rushed to his side, quickly saving his notepad from the floor before he could do something drastic like last time.

“It’s not so bad, Cole!” Anne said quickly with a reassuring smile. “You’re getting better, your wrist is much stronger now-“

“What good is it if I still can’t _ draw?!” _ Cole snapped. “I’ve been trying for _ months! _ I did the clay work, I’ve done the exercises and I’m still – I’m _ still-!” _

He broke off with a wet gasp, hot tears spilling over his cheeks. The girls hugged him tight and rubbed his back gently as he sobbed into Anne’s braids. They let him cry without interruption, making only quiet shushing noises to soothe him when his breathing got too quick and painful.

“You are improving.” Diana said carefully as Cole began to calm himself. “You could control the pencil much better than before. Maybe you’re just going too fast.”

“How can I be going too fast?” Cole muttered, his voice weak from all the crying. “It’s been months now. I’ve been doing the sculptures, strengthening my wrist, doing those exercises that Gilbert recommended... I drew as slowly and carefully as I could and it _ still _ wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean.” Diana smiled as she dabbed at Cole’s ruddied face with her handkerchief. “I think you’re pushing yourself with these drawings. You can’t just expect yourself to be as good as you were. Your wrist is stronger, yes, but you’ve gone so long without drawing that I think you’re not used to it anymore.”

Cole frowned. As much as he wanted to save himself the heartbreak and give up on drawing altogether, he couldn’t deny that Diana was making some sense.

“Diana, you’re _ marvellous!” _Anne cried, clapping her hands with enthusiasm. “Your mind still knows how to draw, your hands just aren’t used to doing it! So all we need to do is teach you how to draw again!”

“That’s just _ it _ .” Cole sighed. “I was never _ taught _ how to draw, I just... Picked up a pen when I was little and never stopped. If I really do have to teach myself again, then it’ll take me another fifteen years before I’m even a little good.”

Anne huffed as Diana tutted disapprovingly on Cole’s left.

“Nonsense.” Anne declared. “First of all, you’re not a _ little _ good, you’re a _ lot _ good, and you’d do better to realize that. You have talent, Cole, but if you keep insulting it, it won’t want to come out anymore.”

“And second,” Diana added before Cole could protest, “you’re not starting again. Look!” She held up the ruined portrait. “Does it look like a child drew this?”

“The nose isn’t centred right.” Cole muttered. “And the ears aren’t shaped properly. The hair’s a mess and the linework is sloppy and-“

“Then work on that. Don’t just dive straight into drawing fabulous portraits, despite how much Anne and I would love to see them. You’ve had a setback, yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to start from scratch! Just start small; practice drawing little things, someone’s glasses or hands or lips-“

“Oh, you could study lips with us!” Anne grinned. “We did it first when we were playing parlour games at my house, but Diana and I do it all the time now-“

“Um!” Diana fumbled. “I think that’s more of a, um... Womanly activity, Anne.”

“Oh, I’m sure Cole doesn’t-“

“Yes he does!” Diana said quickly. She flushed and made a strangled squeaking noise before shooting Cole a desperate glance. “Um – r-right, Cole?”

Cole rose his eyebrow at her knowingly, but conceded nonetheless.

“I agree with Diana.” He smiled gently. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable having someone stare at my lips all day.” He shot Diana a glance from the corner of his eye and smirked. “Best to keep it just you and Diana for now.”

Diana pinched his leg. He wiggled his eyebrows. She pinched him harder.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be just lips, then.” Anne shrugged. “Or body parts in general. You could do some simple flowers, leaves, whatever you like, as long as it’s not too difficult and doesn’t put too much strain on your wrist.”

“Exactly!” Diana smiled, looking grateful for the change of subject. “Just do what you need to do to familiarize yourself with drawing again, and you’ll be back to sketching beautiful portraits in no time.”

“I wish I had your optimism.” Cole chuckled humorlessly. “But I’ll give it a try.” He added once he noticed the girls’ crestfallen faces. They both brightened visibly and wrapped their arms around him once more before separating.

“It’s getting dark.” Diana stated as she packed away her books. “I should probably be heading home.”

She said her goodbyes to Anne and Cole, hugging them both and blowing Anne an enthusiastic kiss as she pranced out of the barn. Anne made an equally enthusiastic show of blowing one back, and giggled when Diana mimed catching it in her hand. Cole fought the urge to roll his eyes; he loved them both, but Diana didn’t make a move soon, he swore he would do it for her.

“I’d count today an unmitigated success!”

Cole nodded politely, despite not knowing what ‘unmitigated’ meant.

“I really think this could be our new writing club headquarters!” Anne chattered away as Cole packed away his notepad into his satchel. “At least until the weather clears up and we’ll be able to start building a new one. How skilled are you with hammering?”

“I think you might be better at that than me.” Cole chuckled. “But I’ve done some whittling before, and some repairs on my family’s farm, so I should be able to saw the wood as well as keep a steady hand while you hammer.”

“Perfect! I’ll be the best construction worker there ever was!”

Cole snorted at Anne’s determined face. He reached over to ruffle her hair fondly and laughed as she squealed and swatted him away.

“Farewell, darling wife!” Cole hollered as he left the barn. Anne giggled and waved after him.

“Be back soon, loving husband!”

Cole laughed, leaving the barn with a bright smile on his face, but the further away he got from Green Gables, the more Cole’s smile faded. The lack of Anne and Diana’s laughter left him with nothing but his own thoughts to listen to, and they weren’t pleasant things to listen to. He tried his best to distract himself; _ the sky goes from blue to yellow to orange to red, like a flattened rainbow, _ _<strike> he’s broken he’s talentless everything he loves has been taken from him</strike> _ _ there’s no green though, maybe the trees could be the green _<strike>_there’s no place for him here there’s no place for him anywhere why does he even try _</strike>

Start small. That’s what Diana had said. He wasn’t broken; it was just a setback. He just needed to start _ small _. He could do small. He’d drawn small things before, flowers, anatomy studies, the occasional rock to practice his shading skills. He could do small.

It was the starting part that he was stuck on.

It wasn’t like he didn’t _ want _ to draw, he did – but no matter how hard he looked, nothing gave him any kind of _ drive _ . It was like when Anne complained about certain places or situations having no scope for the imagination, except worse, because at least in Anne’s case she was coming up with things from her own mind, which was already hard to do; Cole already had the idea right in front of him, right _ there _ and waiting to be drawn, but he just couldn’t _ do _ it.

“Come to me, muse...” He murmured quietly to himself. He tugged his cardigan around his shoulders and huddled into his scarf. “Come to me, _ please _...”

The ground was dark beneath his feet. He could hardly tell it was there.

“Come to me...”

He could trip. Maybe he’d fall in a ditch. Maybe he’d fall down a cliff.

“Come to me, muse...”

Would anyone even notice?

“Come to me come to me _ come to me-“ _

“Cole?”

Cole yelped, jerking his head upright to come face to face with none other than Gilbert Blythe.

“Evening.” Gilbert smiled in that little way he did – a small quirk of his lips, a tilt of his head, and that inquisitive look in his eyes. It was as if his face was saying _ ‘I’m not quite sure why you’re out here so late, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to’. _

“Gilbert!” Cole squeaked. He wasn’t entirely sure what made him so flustered around Gilbert, considering they’d never really spoken until he’d become friends with Anne. Maybe it was because he held almost all the qualities of the boys that made Cole’s life hell; well-liked, good looking, popular, could probably get away with anything if they smiled wide enough. He knew Gilbert wasn’t like that; he was kind and charming, even to those he didn’t know that well, and he’d been incredibly caring towards Cole when Billy Andrews broke his wrist, but here Cole was, just waiting for the day Gilbert turned around and snapped his other wrist like a twig between his hands. “Um, yes - evening. Good evening.”

“Good evening.” Gilbert smiled. He paused and blinked a few times. “I said that already, didn’t I?”

See, _ that _. That was another thing Cole didn’t get about Gilbert Blythe. How he could just... Brush off his mistakes with ease, with no worries about being judged or made fun of. It just didn’t make sense.

“So,” Gilbert shrugged, bouncing once on his toes. One more thing Cole didn’t quite understand about Gilbert Blythe; how he could communicate so easily with just his face and body language. Cole had spent so much of his life trying to keep himself flat and unreadable out of panic that if anyone could tell what he was thinking, they wouldn’t like it. Meanwhile, Gilbert was just – _ there, _ telling everyone everything he felt with a raise of his brow or tilt of his head or, evidently, a bounce of his toes. _ ‘I don’t want to be rude, but it’s clear we both have places to be, so we should probably clear up this conversation quickly, if that’s quite alright’. _“What’re you doing in the woods?”

“Oh, um.” Cole dropped his gaze from Gilbert’s and focusing on the dark forest floor. “Heading back from Green Gables, Anne invited Diana and I over. I’ve been, um.” He gestured vaguely with his right hand. “Practicing.”

Gilbert’s eyes brightened visibly against the dark of the woods.

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask! How’s it healing? Not too painful, right?”

Cole fought the urge to laugh at Gilbert’s excitement. It wasn’t like he found Gilbert particularly laughable – far from it, actually – but the bright-eyed look on his face was just too sweet to be taken seriously.

“It’s, um.” Cole murmured. He rotated his hand carefully; the pinpricks of pain tingling around the heel of his palm caused some discomfort, but they weren’t enough to be truly painful. “It’s better. Much better. I’ve been doing those physical exercises you recommended, they’ve worked rather well.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Everything he said had been true; his wrist was in far less pain than it had been at first, and the exercises had improved his mobility. And besides, it was worth it to see the relieved smile on Gilbert’s face.

“Well, there’s a relief.” Gilbert laughed. It sounded like a breeze in summer.

Cole blinked. He sounded like _ Anne _.

“It’s good to know you’re doing better, Cole,” said Gilbert, and Cole wasn’t quite sure _ why _ his name sounded so... _ Different _, when Gilbert said it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it. “I was actually meaning to ask... Do you think you’ll be coming back to school soon?”

There was something Cole hadn’t expected. He’d assumed the only people who’d worried about him not being in school were Diana, Anne and, evidently, Miss Stacy. As he’d said, he and Gilbert were hardly _ friends _, they just knew the same people, so it wasn’t like Gilbert had any reason to care about Cole’s education. They barely even knew each other, aside from Gilbert knowing Cole liked to draw and Cole knowing Gilbert wanted to be a doctor. They were friendly, but they weren’t friends.

“I’m not so sure,” Cole shrugged once he’d realized he was supposed to speak. “I don’t exactly... _ Fit _, there. Y’know?”

“The class is far better now!” Said Gilbert eagerly. “We study actual real world things, now, like science and electricity – and we have a new teacher! Miss Stacy, she’s – she’s _ phenomenal, _she really cares about what she’s teaching and about her students-“

“Yes, I’ve noticed.” Cole said curtly. The mention of Miss Stacy left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew she’d only been trying to help, as had Anne, and while he’d managed to forgive Anne for her unknowing blunder, he still couldn’t help but resent Miss Stacy for being one of the biggest causes of his loss. “I should be getting home,” he said, sidestepping Gilbert with his fists clenched at his sides, half-expecting the other boy to reach out and grab him or hurt him or something. “My folks will be waiting.”

Liar liar _ liar, _ the dark corner of his brain screamed. His father had gone to sell some calves and foals in Charlottetown, and his mother was visiting Aunt Sylvia with his sisters. They’d reluctantly decided to let him stay by himself on the promise (though his father had phrased it more like a threat) that he’d do all his chores and farm work with no distractions – he’d only managed to sneak out to Green Gables because Anne and Diana had volunteered to help him with all the work that needed doing on the farm so he could finish early.

“Oh, I’ll walk with you!” Gilbert volunteered. Cole clenched his jaw. Of _ course _ . Poor helpless Cole Mackenzie, he can’t fend for himself, of course he needs an escort home like some _ girl _ because god only knew Cole Mackenzie was no man, of _ course- _

“Cole?”

“I don’t need an escort, thank you.” Cole snapped through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll please excuse me...”

“Oh, I-I think you’re misinterpreting me-” Gilbert said quickly, ducking to block Cole’s path.

“If you could _ please _ get out of my way-“

“I wasn’t trying to be rude.” Gilbert said in a manner that Cole almost thought was akin to pleading. “Honest, Cole. It’s just that your farm is on my route home, I pass the footpath on my way to school every day – I wasn’t trying to bother you.”

Cole kind of wanted to retaliate – wanted to shove Gilbert away from him and yell that it didn’t matter what he _ meant _, he’d made the mistake and now he had to live with it because if Cole wasn’t allowed to fix his own errors then why should Gilbert Blythe be able to?!

And then Gilbert looks at him with that lost-puppy stare of his, and Cole’s unable to even think about being mean to him, let alone say anything.

He sighed and stepped around Gilbert once more.

“Come on, then.” He said quietly against the cold autumn air. Gilbert blinked in surprise.

“E-Excuse me?”

“I’d like to get home before it gets too dark.”

“Uh – right!” Gilbert nodded as Cole strode past him, jogging a little to catch up to him and stumbling over a tree root. Cole tried to cover his snort with a cough, but Gilbert must’ve noticed anyways, if the inquisitive little smirk he shot his way was anything to go by.

They walked mostly in silence, the only sounds being the dried bracken of the forest floor crunching beneath their boots. Cole tried his best to focus on his surroundings – the sunset bleeding over the hills in the distance, the first few dots of stars in the sky, the sound of a woodpecker pecking in the distance – but his eyes kept falling back to Gilbert. He’d noticed him every so often in school and around town – after all, how could he not? Every girl in Avonlea had been sweet on Gilbert Blythe at some point, and Cole could hardly blame them. Gilbert was pretty much every cheesy romance novel love interest come to life, all dark hair and strong jaw and gentle eyes, <strike>intriguing eyes, actually, with the subtle curves of the eyelids and the soft wisps of his lashes</strike> so it was really no surprise that most girls in Avonlea had fawned over him at some time or another, but Cole hadn’t really focused much on Gilbert’s features until now. He’d always been extra careful not to pay too much attention to the other boys, lest any quick glances turned into longing stares without him realizing and he wound up getting his teeth kicked in behind the school building (it’d happened once before – never again). Now, thanks to the cover of the dark, Cole found himself able to keep a steady gaze on Gilbert. His features, soft and simple as they were, still seemed strong – a strong jaw, straight nose, broad shoulders and the outlines of muscled arms that were still visible even beneath his coat. Cole didn’t envy Gilbert too much for his muscle – almost every boy in their class had a fair amount of meat on their bones from either farm work or helping with whatever other kind of trade their parents did – but he couldn’t help but notice that Gilbert suited his build much more than Cole did, all gamey arms and gangly legs. Gilbert suited almost everything about himself, now that Cole thought about it. The soft and shiny curls of his hair, his calloused fingers, steady brow-

Cole frowned as he noticed his hand begin to itch. Not a physical itch, but a kind of tingle in his bones, embedded in his muscles. His fingers twitched, forefinger, ring and thumb, making the motions Cole would normally make when he was drawing.

“Cole?”

“Hm?” Cole jerked his head upright. “Uh – P-Pardon? Sorry.”

Gilbert tipped his head slightly and smiled at him reassuringly. Cole’s artistic mind started going haywire – straight lips, well-proportioned and fit on his face almost perfectly, curving slightly and raising his cheeks just so and by God where was his pencil?!

“I said we’re here.”

Cole blinked, turning his head to see that they had reached the part of the road that cut into a beaten track towards the Mackenzie farm.

“So we are.” Cole mumbled, his hand still flexing almost subconsciously. “Yes, well – thank you, Gilbert. I, um... I appreciated the company.”

Gilbert’s eyebrows flick up just a little as he settles back on his feet, the way he did when he was pleased with himself.

“You’re quite welcome. I mean, I hardly spoke, but-“

“I enjoyed it anyways,” said Cole, hoping Gilbert could see he was being sincere. “You’ve helped me a great deal, actually.”

Gilbert nodded, most likely assuming Cole was talking about his wrist.

“Well, glad to’ve been of service.” Gilbert chuckled. He cleared his throat and bounced once more on his toes as he nodded to the road behind him. “I’d best be going, but it was nice walking with you.”

“And you.”

Gilbert rose his hand in farewell, and the two turned and continued their paths down separate roads. By the time Cole had reached the farm, his body was exhausted, but his mind was racing with possibility. He threw his satchel on the bed and dug out his pencil and sketchpad as he quickly settled at his desk. He took a deep breath and allowed the inspiration to flow through him like the blood that coursed through his veins and the air that filled his lungs. He was almost shocked at the familiarity of it all – how it all felt like second nature after so long of nothing but practice and practice and _ practice _. He flexed his hand carefully and circled his wrist the way Gilbert had told him to do when he’d first broken it. Once his wrist felt flexible enough, he took his pencil, placed it carefully on the paper, and then he can’t quite remember.

Cole wasn’t sure at what point he fell asleep, but he jerked awake to the sound of his mother slamming the door behind her and yelling for him to wake up as his sisters ran squealing into the house, the pounding of their footsteps on the stairs already giving Cole a headache. He glanced down and frowned once he’d realized what he’d fallen asleep on - a pair of eyes in the top left corner that were as deep as they were expressive, complete with the flecks in the iris and bright shines in the pupils. At the bottom of the page were a pair of lips; long, straight, but not too thin or fat – a perfect balance, curving upwards in an inquisitive smirk. He finished admiring the shading on the cupids bow and moved his gaze to the next corner of the paper. A faint circle had been drawn on the page, outlining a head, but he must’ve fallen asleep before he’d finished, because all that was there was a jawline; a strong jawline that clenched every so often like it was trying to hold back it’s questions, because once it got started on one it probably wouldn’t be able to stop.

Cole blinked once, twice, then shook his head firmly. The sketches still remained. They were almost impressive, actually – well, impressive for Cole’s work, that was. The lines flowed in an almost carefree manner across the paper, like he’d finally managed to stop overthinking every movement and just _ draw _. Cole swallowed heavily as he looked into the eyes staring back at him from his sketchpad; soft eyes, inquisitive eyes, intriguing eyes that looked as if they were practically overflowing with-

“Cole?!” His mother yelled from downstairs. “What’s taking so long?!”

“Uh – nothing!” Cole yelled, slamming his sketchbook shut.

Nothing was wrong, Cole convinced himself as he tugged a comb through his hair (half flattened on one side, thanks to his nap on his desk). Nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.

Except he’d just fallen asleep on a page full of Gilbert Blythe. And he wasn’t quite sure why, but that felt absolutely terrifying.

**Author's Note:**

> i may continue this because i do have a plot planned out but also i have other wips i should focus on too,,, hh,,,


End file.
